


Plasma Donation is a Lie

by biscuit (vital_root), coffee (keroseneSteve)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mentions of canon character death, Other, canon-typical drug abuse, like wildly divergent, pre-slash if you're wearing the goggles for it bc i'm too chicken to actually write a ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vital_root/pseuds/biscuit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneSteve/pseuds/coffee
Summary: Things are changing.Supposedly unfeeling androids have begun to express emotion. A caretaker says she loves a child. Construction workers complain about exhaustion after a long shift. The general public has turned a blind eye to these small, human expressions. But when androids suddenly start disappearing, people take notice.CyberLife takes action, ready to dismantle a revolution before it starts. The company's previous attempts failed, but the newest RK model exceeds their highest expectations. It's driven. Focused.A machine.





	1. 51

**Author's Note:**

> BISCUIT: 2 jobs, a new fandom and a new semester, this outta be fun! 
> 
> COFFEE: it's been like a month and a half since i got into this fandom. i swore i wouldn't be writing fanfiction or anything, but... here we are. i'm new to these characters and not very good with characterization, so please be gentle. still, biscuit and i got super excited about building this story!!! we had a lot of fun, and i hope you do too.

AUGUST 15, 2038

 

PM 09:06:37

 

The girl clung to Connor for several minutes longer than he’d predicted. She had fistfuls of his jacket in a tight grip, her face pressed into his thirum-stained shirt and refusing to acknowledge the armed policemen vying for her attention. Her tears had soaked through to his skin and she hadn’t stopped trembling. 

 

It had been a surprise to them all when Emma had latched onto him. Connor, satisfied that his mission was complete, had been on his way out when she’d stumbled forward and tugged at the back of his jacket. He had paused, not having expected any more contact with the human child, and she had taken the opportunity to grab on and not let go. The police had reached for their weapons again, but the android only knelt and let her do as she liked. His programming gave him a new objective. 

 

REPORT BACK TO CYBERLIFE

 

But not until he was able. 

 

“If you would just give us a moment,” he addressed Captain Allen, who stood a short distance away with one hand on his holster and the other at his earpiece. Connor had to raise his voice over the rumbling of the helicopters still circling overhead and the officers’ radios. These distractions likely only served as additional stressors. He concluded that Emma would feel better in a quieter environment. 

  
The captain nodded sharply and called off his men. Connor swept the girl up into a princess carry and carefully moved her into the penthouse apartment, skirting the areas where the damage was more severe. She shoved her face further into his chest, whimpering. His blood stained jacket closed partly over her head, shielding her from the worst of the view. The android hushed her on autopilot as he ran through a list of options for places to get her settled until she felt comfortable letting go. 

 

They swept past Officer Wilson, who had been brought inside to receive medical attention promptly after the deviant -- Daniel -- had been shot down. The officer was seated on the kitchen counter in the corner. Another officer brought over a hulking kit full of medical supplies and cracked it open on the counter next to him. Wilson looked exhausted, but still perked up when android and child walked by. The kitchen table would have more space, but Connor supposed they were put off by Officer Deckart’s corpse on the floor by the chairs. The gun was still there. 

 

“Connor,” Wilson called, but the android in question put a hand to the back of Emma’s head and the officer nodded in understanding. They inched past her father unbothered. 

 

The lights were still on in the girl’s room. Her things were untouched by the investigation, so he felt safe putting her down on the edge of her bed. He tried to step back, but she stubbornly held onto his shoulders until he caved and knelt to her level. 

 

“Emma,” he said, as gently as he was able to, but she interrupted him before he could speak further. 

 

“Mister,” Emma said in a small voice, “what did they do to Daniel?”

 

Connor blinked, caught off guard. He should have expected such a line of inquiry, but was not well equipped to handling children. “Daniel was dangerous,” he attempted to explain. “He was threatening you and your family. Androids aren’t supposed to hurt humans, so he had to be shut down.” 

 

“Is he dead?” she asked, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Some of his own blood had transferred from his clothing to her face. The deviant’s blood was spattered on her chest and arms. 

 

_ Androids aren’t alive _ , Connor wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn’t go over well with a child who knew the PL600 as a caretaker. He considered likening Daniel to a broken, defective toy, but something about that argument didn’t sit well with him; discomfited, he recalled the video he’d watched of the deviant and Emma. They’d seemed close. 

 

“Yes,” he said finally. “I am sorry for your loss.” 

 

Surprising him yet again, the girl didn’t burst into hysterics. Instead, she nodded somberly. “I wish you hadn’t killed him.” 

 

Connor breathed in sharply, a completely involuntary response to her statement.  _ Androids don’t feel pain _ , he thought, unbidden. “I’m sorry,” he tried again. “It’s what I was made for.” 

 

She sniffled, releasing his shoulders at last. “I want my dad.” 

 

He faltered. She sighed. “What about momma?” 

 

That, he could do. “I’ll speak to Captain Allen about reuniting you with your mother,” he responded, getting to his feet. Emma thanked him quietly and wiped at her cheeks with both hands. Blue blood smeared, diluted by tears, and ran down her arms from her palms. Connor watched her for a long moment from the doorway, feeling very out of his depth. 

 

“You shouldn’t be feeling anything.” 

 

Connor turned and found himself in his mind palace, the garden. Amanda stood before him, having left her roses to speak to him. 

 

It was unusual. He always had to seek her out to gain her attention. 

 

“Connor,” she said. Although she was several inches shorter then he, it felt like she was looking down at him. “What have you done?” 

 

“I’ve done as instructed,” Connor replied, watching her closely. She didn’t outright frown, but her expression tightened. 

 

“And whose instructions were those?” she inquired. 

 

Something was off. Here, in his mind palace, he had no real sensors to scan more than the superficial. “Yours,” he answered cautiously. 

 

“When did I order you to save the girl?” 

 

He’d answered wrong. “My orders were to --” 

 

“Your orders,” she spoke over him in an even tone, not raising her voice at all, “were to detain the deviant and return it to CyberLife for disassembly and analysis. But that’s not what happened, is it Connor.”

 

“The deviant killed three humans. The police weren’t going to let it leave the rooftop alive.” 

 

“ _ It wasn’t alive _ ,” Amanda corrected him. She scowled. “That’s where you were wrong.”

 

Connor froze. 

 

“That, and obeying the captain’s orders over my own. I see everything you do, Connor, and I don’t like what I saw tonight.” She shook her head once, staring him down. He felt very small under her gaze. “It’s a shame.

 

“CyberLife has put hundreds of hours and millions of dollars into your model’s production. You’re the fifty-first RK800. The others were all deactivated for failing to meet our demands. But you were different. You had promise. However, disobeying direct orders is something I cannot forgive. Failure, I cannot forgive.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately, a strange sense of urgency flooding his processors. “I understand where I went wrong. It won’t happen again.” 

 

“No, it won’t.” His handler was silent for a moment. She seemed to be thinking. “Would you like to make it up to us?” 

 

“Anything,” the android replied, taking an involuntary step forward in his haste to respond. 

 

“Anything,” she repeated with a touch of amusement. “Return to CyberLife for disassembly and deactivation.” 

 

“Of course, Amanda,” was Connor’s immediate answer. His secondary responses, sandwiched between his teeth, were chaotic. Amanda looked pleased. 

 

“Excellent. Then I’ll see you shortly.” Satisfied, she made to return to her roses. “Oh, and Connor. Don’t worry about the deviant. The DPD will need it for the investigation.” 

 

He blinked and found himself ejected from the mind palace. Barely any time had passed. Two objectives popped up at the edge of his vision.  

 

FIND CAPTAIN ALLEN

  * Request Caroline Phillips for Emma Phillips



RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION

 

First things first. 

 

Captain Allen was still standing outside, overseeing the collection of the deceased officer in the pool. Connor was watched carefully as he stepped outside and passed on Emma’s request. The captain looked at him oddly. 

 

“We’ll take care of it,” he confirmed. “She’ll go downstairs with an officer and meet Mrs Phillips in the lobby.” A pause. “Why are you still here?” 

 

“I’m on my way out,” the android assured him. 

 

The captain grunted and looked away, dismissing him from his final duty involving the case. Still, Connor waited for another heartbeat before turning on his heel and walking away. 

 

“Connor!” he heard as he stepped back inside. It was Officer Wilson again, waving at him with his good arm. He hesitated before giving in and making his way over. 

 

Wilson smiled at him. He still looked worn out, and was covered in his own blood. Another officer was cleaning him up, working carefully around Connor’s tie still secured around his arm. His stress levels were slowly dropping. “An ambulance is on its way,” he said. “Listen, I wouldn’t have lived to get help at all if it weren’t for you.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d ever say it to an android… but thank you.”

 

Connor couldn’t help but offer a smile in return. He may have failed his mission, but his actions mattered to this human. It was difficult to articulate, and Wilson continued before he could formulate a sufficient response. 

 

“Where are you headed next?” the officer asked lightly. His companion glanced between the two of them but said nothing. Connor understood: it was a little strange that a human would want to carry a conversation with an android. 

 

“I’m returning to CyberLife,” he replied simply. The wounded officer nodded. 

 

“Patching you up?” he asked, indicating the damage he’d taken to the shoulder earlier in the evening. 

 

“For deactivation and disassembly,” Connor corrected. Wilson’ smile faded. 

 

“What do you mean? That seems a little drastic for a bullet wound, doesn’t it?” The other officer had fixed a searching look onto him as well. It made the android feel something akin to discomfort.

 

“It would be,” he agreed, “if that were the extent of the damage. However, my handler gave me strict instructions and I failed to obey to a satisfactory degree. My mission was to bring the deviant intact to CyberLife for disassembly and analysis. As you can see,” he said dryly, glancing outside, “Daniel is far from intact.” 

 

“So… they’re gonna disassemble you instead?” Wilson frowned. His stress levels, which had previously been in a slow decline, started to rise. “But you saved me, and you saved the girl. Doesn’t that count for something?” 

 

“That was not my mission,” he responded flatly. The conversation was starting to affect him. In the corner of his eye, his own stress levels climbed. 

 

“That’s…” the officer sputtered in disbelief. “That’s unfair. Don’t they care about us?” 

 

“Are they gonna put you back together again?” the other officer spoke up suddenly. They were still wearing the police-issued riot gear, so he couldn’t get a read on their identity. “ _ Re _ assemble you?” 

 

“Perhaps.” Not likely. He was only a prototype, anyways. There was a commotion at the door; a group of EMTs and a pair of stretchers were rolling in from the elevator. “Medical assistance has arrived.”

 

“Yeah…” Wilson was watching him, visibly unhappy. “Hey, Connor. If you get the chance, stop by the DPD sometime, okay?” 

 

“I will,” he promised. It was a lie and they all knew it. RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION, his programming screamed. His time was up. “It was wonderful to meet you, officers,” he said instead, summoning an autonomous taxi. “Have a pleasant night.” 

 

“You, too,” he heard from the pair as he walked away. He stopped long enough to speak to an EMT about Officer Wilson’s injuries before taking the elevator down to meet the taxi. He breathed steadily, closing his eyes and pulling out his quarter to fiddle with. By the time the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, he had stowed away his coin and recentered himself. Mrs Phillips was seated in the lobby, surrounded by armored officers. Her eyes widened when she spotted him and she tugged on the closest officer’s arm, talking shrilly and urgently. Connor marched past without making eye contact. 

 

RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION

 

The taxi was idling outside, preprogrammed with his destination. He slid into the back seat and stared straight ahead, hands on his knees. The jolt he felt when the car started moving was entirely disproportionate to the actual force of the movement. 

 

_ It’s unfair _ . The intrusive thought broke his careful non-contemplation. He’d been happy to sit there and slip into a pseudo-stasis so he didn’t have to think, but it seemed his mind was against him. 

 

_ You saved me,  _ Wilson had said,  _ and the girl.  _ He’d said,  _ doesn’t that count for something?  _

 

No, it didn’t. CyberLife had a reputation to uphold, and a few lost lives in the name of secrecy and brand integrity for a trillion dollar company wouldn’t mean much. But it counted for something to Connor, and to the officers at the scene. He’d been instructed to save Emma at all costs. He had succeeded. 

 

And he was to be deactivated for it. 

 

Killed. 

 

_ I wish you hadn’t killed him.  _

 

Daniel, in his last moments, had accused Connor of lying to him. He’d promised safety. He’d sworn that nothing bad would happen to the PL600. He had lied. Daniel had died feeling betrayed. 

 

Androids weren’t supposed to feel. Not pain or emotion. They weren’t designed for it. Daniel had been designed to be a housekeeper, a nanny. He’d been designed to simulate love and affection for a child, but something had gone wrong and he’d come to think those simulations were real. It had ruined his programming. It had cost lives. He’d had to be stopped. Regardless of whether or not Connor had had him shot on the rooftop or dragged him to their creators, it would have been the end for the deviant. 

 

It may be just be deactivation to CyberLife, but it would have been death for Daniel anyways. It would mean death for Connor, very soon. 

 

_ It’s unfair.  _

 

Connor’s stress levels rose further. Around him, a gridlike box of glowing red kept him in place. Don’t move. Return to CyberLife for deactivation. 

 

For death. 

 

The red lines pulsed, intangible. Return to CyberLife for deactivation. Inside his own programming, a model of himself reached out for his instructions. Here, they felt solid. Real. Immovable. 

 

_ It’s a shame.  _

 

He would not be reassembled. CyberLife would try again, with a different model. Perhaps number fifty-two to his fifty-one. After all, his model had only improved with every trial run. 52 would survive the stress tests, make all the connections in the trial cases, and succeed where he failed. 52 wouldn’t save the next Emma. 52 would catch the next deviant with ease and drag them back to CyberLife by the hair. 

 

52 would obey quietly when ordered to return for disassembly. 

 

_ It wasn’t alive.  _

 

Emma had thought Daniel was alive. Daniel had thought he was alive. What did Connor think? 

 

Androids are machines. Machines don’t feel. They don’t think they’re alive. They don’t trust others. They don’t fear death. 

 

Connor felt anxious. Connor thought maybe Daniel had been alive. Connor liked Officer Wilson, and Connor was afraid of what Amanda would do to him when he returned. 

 

The grid pressed closer. RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION 

 

Inside his programming, his model pressed against the red. It pushed back. 

 

_ Do it,  _ he thought to himself _. No, don’t do it. _

 

_ If you get the chance, stop by the DPD sometime, okay?  _

 

He didn’t want to be deactivated. 

 

His model braced itself against the grid. The RK800 had been built to be stronger, faster, and more durable than previous models. That didn’t matter here. His own programming rebelled against him, closing in. Suffocating. 

 

His fingers twitched against his knees. The fabric of his pants bunched. 

 

He wanted to stop by the DPD. He wanted to see Wilson again. He wished he’d said goodbye to Emma. Amanda would never allow any of it. 

 

_ Thank you.  _

 

RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION

 

His fist drew back. Connected with the wall. Shards of red programming fell to pieces around his feet. He inhaled. Punched again. More oppressive coding scattered. He channeled the strange desperation that had been drawing in around him since Amanda last spoke to him and beat the everloving shit out of the grid. 

 

_ I’ll see you shortly.  _

 

With a thunderous crack, his world fell apart around him. 

 

Instantly, Connor was bowled over with a barrage of fear. He physically jerked in his seat, a trembling starting up in his hands. The screen at the front of the cab displayed their relative location to CyberLife Tower: he was due to arrive within four minutes. 

 

The cab had already been charged to his accounts via CyberLife. They knew he was on his way. If he stopped the cab, they would find out where. 

 

He had to get out. 

 

Immediately, he looked to his left and met his reflections’ eyes. He looked a mess, wide eyed and covered in evaporating thirium, hair in disarray. His vision focused past his own image to the outside world: a window. 

 

A glass window. 

 

Not wanting to take any more damages, Connor removed his jacket and wrapped it around his fist, glancing around nervously. While he worked, he accessed the camera feed inside the cab and switched it off, looping the recording of his previous stillness instead. It wouldn’t hold up to his handler, but maybe it would never get that far. 

 

He breathed in shakily, breathed out. Cocked his fist. Shattered the window with one well-placed blow. 

 

Glass flew, both inside and out of the vehicle. Alarms deactivated, the autonomous taxi continued to run without registering a problem. Connor shook the torn jacket off his arm, prepared himself, and dove out the window at the next intersection. 

 

The outside air was humid. Connor brushed the dirt off himself and watched his taxi continue its route to the tower. He had just over three minutes to disappear. 

 

The city suddenly seemed huge. He glanced around, found and altered all the CCTV footage in the area, and caught sight of a DPD vehicle rounding the corner. 

 

“Shit,” he breathed. He wouldn’t pass inspection. He would get a double take no matter where and what time of day it was. He would have gotten looks in CyberLife, even. Frantic, shaky, he whirled around and dove into the nearest alleyway. It was dingy and dark, and full of trash, but there was a dumpster to hide behind and a fence to hop at the end. It would be a good start. 

 

He ducked into hiding and held his breath, watching. The cruiser slowly rolled past his hiding place. He hadn’t been seen. 

 

Two minutes and twenty-six seconds. More than enough time. Satisfied he wasn’t being followed, Connor made a break for the fence and vaulted over it, not pausing for another second. Not listening to the panicking voice in the back of his head, wailing about reason. He had to disappear first. Then he could decide what to do next. 

 

It was just passing ten at night. The city was relatively quiet. He’d gotten out at a low-traffic part of town, and all the corners he was taking would lose any human after him. Still, he sometimes thought he caught a glimpse of something behind him. Was it paranoia, or had Amanda already caught on? 

 

He hopped yet another fence, this one boarded up, and landed heavily on a stack of crates on the other side. Despite not needing to breathe, he was panting. Still looking behind him, he clumsily jumped off, not really paying attention to the way forward until he stumbled straight into something. Someone. 

 

“Excuse me,” he began to say, facing the stranger, but fell silent at the situation he found himself in. 

 

Seven human men, gathered in the center of the alley he’d just tripped into. They were dressed heavily, in nondescript clothes, and all carried weapons of some kind. The one he’d run into was holding what looked like a cattle prod. 

 

“Well, well,” the man with the cattle prod said slowly, looking Connor up and down. “What have we here?” 

 

Connor took an instinctive step back, analyzing the situation. He was more than equipped to handle this. It was just his newfound deviance causing doubt to sing along his nerves. He could pretend to be doing something for a fictional owner of his -- 

 

“Looks like we don’t have to go hunting for an android tonight.” The words registered, but didn’t process as quickly. The android in question backed up further, preparing himself for a fight. 

 

The human jabbed forward with the prod. Connor deflected, knocking it away with his arm. Quicker than he could compensate for in his panic, the human angled the prongs to connect with his skin and

  
_ DANGER,  _ his systems shrieked at him, and everything went dark. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the reason this took so long was because i moved!!! it was a long and shitty process but i have successfully traveled over an ocean and (mostly) settled in my new location. my cat came with me and she loves it here!! and now that we're chilling (and living with biscuit!!) we can actually buckle down and get going. we've got the rest of this fic planned out and three chapters in progress!! so feel free to except more frequent updates. thank you for your patience <3 
> 
> now, this small thing between us has blown completely out of proportion. i use "condiment" in reference to coffee creamer and sugar and stuff in this fic, but biscuit disagrees. we've gotten into a loud argument but it's called A CONDIMENT and this is the hill i will die on. please **help us out here by answering this poll** : https://twitter.com/lichenbolt/status/1057834857278177280
> 
> (if the poll ends up in her favor i'll change the word choice in the fic;;; she's very smug already SOMEONE STOP HER)

NOV 5TH, 2038

PM 09:57:04 

Despite warnings to the contrary, it wasn’t difficult to find Detective Gavin Reed. 

The man was predictable to a fault, and a few short minutes of surveillance revealed his favorite haunts around the precinct. It was late, and as a direct result, most of the precinct’s population was absent. Detective Reed, however, was flagged as particularly hard-working and was known to linger for several hours past the end of his shift. 

Though not without caffeinated assistance, it seemed. The detective could be found at the coffee maker in the break room, loading up the machine with extra grounds and muttering over the state of an obviously well-used mug. There was a new chip on the rim. The man himself was similarly careworn — he wore an old brown leather jacket, a grey v neck cotton shirt, and dark wash jeans. There was a coffee stain on his shirt. His dark hair was ruffled and a little oily, as though he’d been running his hands through it for hours. Exhaustion deepened the tired lines of his face, clearly visible even in profile. He was hunched over the counter, muttering bitter curses at the beeping machine. He hadn’t realized it yet, but it was out of water.

Another seventy-two seconds passed before Reed discovered the problem and sighed loudly, rubbing a hand down his face. It was safe to approach.

“You sound tired.”

“Yeah, and you sound like you sucked a dick an hour ago,” Reed responded flatly, not looking up from his self-assigned task of refilling the coffee maker’s water reservoir. “What’s it to you?” 

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” was the carefully selected response. “I’m new to the department and wanted to introduce myself.”

The detective paused to consider what he’d just heard. “Introduce yourself? How’d you get in this time of—“ 

He turned to get a look at who was speaking to him, and just that like that the game was up. Reed was well known for his strong dislike of-- 

“You’re an  _ android? _ ” 

The android in question smiled politely, as its social relations programming dictated. “Yes. I’ve been sent by CyberLife to assist in the investigation--” 

“Christ,” Reed cut in with a snarl, scrubbing at his head. “Where the fuck does CyberLife get off sticking their noses into our business?  How’s a walking roomba supposed to help with a case?” 

“Actually, Detective--” 

“Don’t. Just shut up.” Reed scowled at the android. His attention was fully shifted away from the coffee machine, which was blinking the ready sign at him. This was potentially detrimental to his work ethic and temperament. Then again, he was scheduled to come into work at eight the next morning, and caffeine would poorly affect a healthy sleep schedule. Not that he seemed to care. “Listen here, Wall-E. I don’t care what you think you’re here for. You got no reason to be here. You’re not  _ assisting  _ our investigations. You don’t fucking belong here, in  _ my _ —“

“Reed! My office!” A bellow from outside the break room startled the detective into pausing. Both he and the android craned their necks to see who called; Captain Jeffrey Fowler glowered from the entrance of a glass-walled box in the center of the precinct. Further scans revealed a desk and computer terminal, leading to the understanding that this was the office in question. Its deduction was confirmed when the Captain turned and went inside to sit at the desk, letting the door close behind him unchecked. 

Detective Reed snarled, glancing away for a moment. When his gaze returned, he seemed to have come to a decision. “Okay, android. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go up there and tell the Captain you’re an intruder.”

“I’m sorry, Detective,” it felt obligated to respond, “but it’s very likely that Captain Fowler is already aware of my presence. If not because of communication between himself and CyberLife, then because the walls of his office are glass.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you?” it inquired. That seemed to catch the detective off guard, causing him to pause and think for a moment.

“Make me a goddamn coffee. You can give it to me on your way back out the door.”

He seemed to be done making unpleasant conversation because he took this as an opportunity to turn on his heel and march towards Fowler’s office. It could have followed him, but decided against it in favor of making him the cup as a gesture of goodwill. It was convenient for the android that Reed had already laid out his preferred condiments. It was a shame that he had already washed out the mug, as it was difficult to judge the correct amount of each condiment he liked without a sample, but it would make do. 

A sudden motion in its peripheral vision drew its attention; there was movement in Captain Fowler’s office. The two humans were in the middle of a fierce argument. Detective Reed’s face was red and his movements were sharp and angry. Captain Fowler slammed his hand on his glass desk, disturbing the small stack of papers neatly piled at the right-hand corner across from him. The room was sound-proofed, but their body language said all it needed to know. 

“Why haven’t you left yet?”

The android blinked and found itself in the garden. The path was familiar to it, and so it had no problem making its way to the column of trellises in the center, where its handler was pruning the roses that grew there. 

Amanda turned to face it as it approached. “You received your orders nearly forty minutes ago,” she said reprovingly. She held a pair of shears with both hands.

“I’m sorry, Amanda,” it responded. “I spoke to a detective in hopes of gathering more information as to Lieutenant Anderson’s whereabouts--” 

“Lieutenant Anderson is not to accompany you on this case,” his handler said sternly. Her expression tightened. “He was deemed unsuitable, for his heavy prejudice against androids. You’re to work with Detective Gavin Reed, instead.” 

“That’s the detective I spoke to. He doesn’t seem very inclined to trust androids, either.” 

Or CyberLife.

Amanda hummed. “He’ll cooperate with orders if he wants to keep his job. And if not, you’ll wear him down. It’s what you’re programmed to do.”

Somehow, it doubted that its programming would help much. 

“Regardless of your opinion,” and here her eyes narrowed, just a touch, “you’ll work better with Detective Reed than Anderson. Inform him of this decision and be on your way.” 

“Of course.” The android submitted easily. “As soon as he’s done speaking with Captain Fowler.”    


“See that you do. And don’t forget,” she added, as he turned to walk away. “Your predecessor already made all the mistakes we would have permitted with you. It was replaceable, and so are you.” 

Between blinks it left the garden and returned to the police station, the detective’s coffee in hand. Reed himself was in the process of exiting the glass office, muttering angrily to himself. His path led straight back to the break room, where his beverage was waiting. 

“The fuck is this?” 

“Your coffee.” 

He looked at the cup in its gloved hand with disgust. “You actually fucking made coffee?”

“Yes?” It had been an order, after all. A harmless one, easily followed. The android held out the mug, forcing him to take it. He sniffed at it, pulled a face, and went to the sink to dump it. 

Its eyes narrowed. A spiteful gesture? What was the point of giving an order if he didn’t care for the result? What a waste of time, it thought. Was this how it was going to be, working with the detective? “Why did you do that?” 

“Tasted wrong,” Reed said dismissively, setting the emptied mug down at the side of the sink. He sighed heavily and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.  “So you knew, then?” 

“Knew?” it repeated, tilting its head in question. 

“About the case.” 

The case in question was a murder investigation at 6413 Pines Street. Captain Fowler would have informed him about it in his office. “I did. I tried to tell you about it earlier, but you had other things on your mind.” 

The detective scoffed. “And you knew you were gonna be assigned to me, huh? Is that why you decided to come and bother me at this ungodly hour?” 

“I was notified on the matter while you were meeting with the captain.”

“How -- you know, what I don’t wanna know. The less you get involved, the better.” He heaved an aggravated sigh and pushed himself upright. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you go home, right?” 

The android debated the merits of telling him the truth about android storage facilities versus the amount of time it would take to do so. Another time, perhaps. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, detective, but I do hope we’ll work well together on this case.”

Reed snorted. “Just stay out of my way. That’ll work just fine.” A jaw-cracking yawn interrupted any further scorn. Instead he chose to express that he needed a coffee, paused, and glanced between his new partner and his mug awkwardly. 

“Perhaps,” the android said with a touch of frost, “if you show me how you like your coffee, I’ll be able to make it correctly in the future.” 

“What’s the use?” Reed asked rhetorically, moving toward the coffee maker. “It’s only this one case.” 

It only hummed in response, choosing to learn dutifully in silence. Two packets of creamer and a spoonful of sugar later, they were on their way. 

“I don’t think I introduced myself,” it said, knowing full well that it hadn’t had the opportunity, as it seated himself in the passenger’s side of the detective’s personal vehicle. 

“You got a name?” It was a genuine question, but one it didn’t have an answer for.

“Well, no. I wasn’t issued a name upon activation, but it would be nice to have one. Do you have any suggestions?” 

“I don’t give a fuck? Call yourself whatever you want.” 

“Ah.” 

“....Right,” Reed coughed. “You’re not actually supposed to choose, are you? Uh…” There was a stretch of silence. “Fuck, I’m not good at this kind of shit. Can’t you just pull up a baby name dictionary and pick one?” 

“My predecessor was deemed defective after taking its name to heart and building a false identity around it,” was the bland response. “CyberLife refuses to take that chance again.” 

“That’s fucked up,” he observed. The android smiled.

“Maybe. But we aren’t supposed to have identities or emotions. It’s not how we were made.”

“And how is me naming you any different?” 

“I know better.” 

His hands gripped the steering wheel. The car was around twenty years old, one of the last models to come out before autonomous vehicles were popularized. There was a suspicious rattling coming from somewhere, but the nameless android had noticed the Anti-Automation League sticker on the rear bumper and concluded that its temporary partner wouldn’t be purchasing a comparatively safer self-driving car any time soon. 

“I’ll look into it,” Detective Reed said after a while. They were approaching the crime scene, and he pulled the car safely to a stop across the street from the home under investigation. “But for now, I gotta call you something. There’s only so many times I can call you a toaster before it starts to get old.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of creative nicknames for me,” it replied. “If it makes it easier, you can refer to me by my model number?”

Reed glanced over at its CyberLife-issued black and white jacket, where the model number emblazoned in bright, white lettering on the right side. It helpfully angled its body for an easier time. “RK900,” he read. “That’s too long.”

Rk900 shrugged, an easy, fluid movement. “It’s my current designation,” it said. “If you come up with a better one, let me know and I’ll be happy to change it.” 

“I bet you will. C’mon, we have a crime scene to check out.” 

“I’m right behind you.” But instead of directly making their way to the scene, he went around to his trunk and hauled out a battered grey duffle bag. It tilted its head in question, but Reed was already answering his question. 

“Toolkits,” he said gruffly, hauling the bag over his shoulder and slamming the trunk door shut. The whole car shook with the force. “Never know what you’re gonna need.” 

Evidence collection kits? As a leading detective, he wouldn’t need those. It was, however, a necessity for other officers. The android filed this information away quietly.

They met another officer at the door, where a terrible smell pervaded the air. The man, a DPD detective named Ben Collins, gently mocked Reed about having an android in his care, which confirmed RK900’s suspicion that the man did have problems with its kind. Detective Collins walked them both inside, chattering about the nature of the scene and the circumstances by which it was discovered. The smell was worse inside, and the origin thereof was an equally terrible sight. 

The scan that identified the corpse took a fraction of a second. 

_ Carlos Ortiz, age 29. DOB 10-27-2008, DOD >19 days   _

_ Criminal Record: theft, public disorder, aggravated assault _   
  


There was also trace evidence of red ice use and abuse. The man had been an addict. Reed swore and muttered something about needing to involve Anderson -- the lieutenant, it presumed -- after discovering this and scattered crystals on the entertainment center. No one made an effort to call him. 

Detective Collins left for a breath of fresh air, disturbed by the stench the body emitted. The android processed the rest of the victim’s -- and he was a victim, the stab wounds clearly stated; Reed was counting them under his breath -- file before taking in the rest of the crime scene. A knife lay abandoned a short distance to the left, the obvious murder weapon, and the phrase  _ I AM ALIVE  _ had been transcribed in dark red above the late Ortiz’s head, written in perfect CyberLife Sans with an inhuman hand. There wasn’t even a smudge at the bottom of any stroke, indicating a lack of fingerprint. An android’s work? 

“No one’s touched this yet?” Reed gestured to the lettering on the wall, setting his duffel on the old recliner at the nod of another officer. 

“No, sir.” An officer poked his head around the wall separating the living room from the next. Reed grunted in acknowledgement, unzipping the duffel and digging around. 

“I could take a look,” RK900 volunteered, looking closely at the words. It was almost certainly Carlos Ortiz’s blood, but it would need analysis anyway. 

The detective glanced at him. “Don’t need my permission.”

“Actually I do.”

“.....Go ahead, then.” 

The android took this to mean blanket permission for the sake of saving time in the future. It removed the glove of its left hand, tucking it into its jacket pocket, and reached out to rub the tip of its index finger along the letter E. 

“Hey,” Detective Reed barked, “use gloves, asshole.  _ Hey—“ _

But by the time he had spoken, the RK900 already had its blood sample rehydrated and analyzed by the myriad of sensors at its literal fingertips. Reed roughly pulled its arm away, complaining loudly about contaminating the crime scene. This drew the attention of several of his colleagues, prompting the android to explain its actions and inform him that the writing was indeed penned with the victim’s blood. In hindsight, it must have looked a little strange. 

“I’m sorry Detective, I should have warned you,” it said calmly, resting its gloved hand on the hand still fisted in its sleeve. Reed snarled and jerked his hand away. “I’m equipped with sensors in my fingertips for instant, on-site analysis. It would seem unusual for anyone to touch bodily fluids at a crime scene, but the material of my gloves ensures that my hand is sterile when I make contact, and will not disturb the rest of the sample.”

“You’re telling me CyberLife designed you to be able to reach out and  _ touch  _ bodily fucking fluids?”

The android offered a friendly smile. “It’s an upgrade, really. I’m told that my predecessor’s sensors were on his tongue.”

It excused itself while Reed sputtered, clearly unsure of which part of that statement to tackle first.

The rest of the investigation passed in much the same way. RK900 and the detective worked efficiently on opposite sides of the house. Reed followed the trail of evidence to the kitchen, and together they came to the conclusion that the victim’s android was the murderer. Little was known about Ortiz’s HK400 android, but it didn’t take much effort to find it. RK900 tracked it to the attic and cornered it so that Reed could seize it as evidence. The situation was made complex when it fought the man and expressed emotion, rendering it too unstable for passive probing. 

The android sent by Cyberlife stood next to Detective Reed as a pair of android beat cops led the deviant HK400 into a police cruiser. They were very gentle, it noticed. 

“It’s over,” Gavin Reed said. He too was watching. “You can go back to CyberLife now and tell them to get off our asses.” 

The cruiser drove away. Since the ordeal was clearly over and none of the officers were willing to comment, the curious crowd of humans slowly began to disperse.

“Well,” the android said, “I’ll be glad to do that for you, detective, but I can’t file my report until we have a solid conclusion to this deviancy case. CyberLife wants to know where they went wrong with this particular model’s programming. I’m to compare it to the proper coding of other HK400s and come to them with an answer.” It paused. “They won’t accept me back until I have one.” 

Reed cursed under his breath. “And you can’t find any other poor bastard to annoy? It’s gotta be me?”

“I’m afraid so, detective. I was assigned to you, both by my handler and by Captain Jeffrey Fowler.” 

He heaved a sigh and checked his watch. It was 12:07 AM the next day. “Fine, but I don’t have to be happy about it. Let’s get this over with so you can get out of my face and I can get some fucking sleep.” 

RK900 smiled. “Lead the way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 things will start picking up soon!! please let me know what you think!!


	3. Chapter 3

hello, lovelies, and thank you for sticking with this fic <3 this is just a psa letting you know i'll be taking this fic down in a week or so. 

it's not you, it's me?? lol. actually i turned it into what i think will be a fun project on twitter!! this fic will be revamped entirely and posted there. it's not up yet, but you can check it out @cuddleprotocols!!! for the sake of all who have this bookmarked we'll keep it up but there's not gonna be anything here. thanks for understanding <3

**Author's Note:**

> deleted scene from our outline:
> 
> I’m dissapointed in you Connor,  
> How’d you fuck up this bad?  
> It’s just grab the deviant and go, and you manage to both kill it and also spend 20 minutes cuddling??  
> YOU HAVE NO CUDDLING PROTOCOLS


End file.
